


Demons

by SowiloRose



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shifter, Angry Bilbo Baggins, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Hobbits, BAMF!Bilbo, Bickering, Bilbo Takes No Shit, Bilbo isn't very good at hiding things, Dragon!Bilbo, Dwarrows are bit slow sometimes, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Glorfindel Is Rude, Grumpy Thorin, Implied Torture, M/M, Magical!Bilbo, Mpreg, Other, Reluctant Bilbo, Sassy!Gandalf, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, The Dwarrows arrive out of order!, Undecided Relationship(s), Very sassy!Bilbo, but that's okay, eventual slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SowiloRose/pseuds/SowiloRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His story was an odd sort of story, a story that needn’t be written down, but spoken by tongue and shared throughout the land. His story was one that he couldn’t express through song and dance, his story was something the world hadn’t yet heard, and though he often spoke stories of the dragons of old and how they were a blessed group he never told them his secret.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins has a secret no one would expect, he isn't a Baggins at all. He is a Dragon, Arandur the Golden, the great Golden Drake of the Western sea. Last of the civilized dragons to roam Middle Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: So, I know most of you are angry that I haven’t updated Iridescent, Titanium, or Pressing Flowers, but I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for so long it has been distracting me from my other stories. This has been blocking my muse and just killing my concentration. I hope you like the idea and the plot; I promised my readers my next story to be Thorin/Bilbo so here it is. I now present to you “Demons” a Hobbit’s tale. – CAS

_Prologue_ _:_

* * *

There had once been a time where his kind had all been viewed as kings, they had all been loved and viewed as a blessing upon the earth. Different ones of his kind brought forth different blessings, all of these blessings had been received with open arms for thousands of years. Until Smaug the terrible came forth. It hadn’t just been the Dwarrows and the men he had ruined, but his own kind as well. Like Erebor and the folk of Durin he had torn apart the very fabric of Dragon’s existence. Smaug attacked settlements for hundreds of years before he had even caught the scent of Erebor, and for that the towns and cities started to forsake dragons. They told stories, making them out to be the horrible beast that only Smaug would ever be.

After his rebellion men, elves, and Dwarrow attacked the dragons with no hesitation, fearful that their homes would be next, that their livelihoods would be ruined like the Dwarrows of Erebor.  Many a beast had simply given in to the assault, giving their lives as a form of compensation to the mortals. Some succumbed to the beast and drove themselves mad with grief and self-hatred, while some lived on hiding away from the rest of the world.

They allowed the good deeds and blessings that they had once bestowed be forgotten; no one willing to remember the times that the magnificent dragons had given them. The hurt and despair caused by Smaug was still far too fresh in the memories, though eventually everyone forgot about the good, they forgot about who helped create their kingdoms and their homes. They chose to forget about the creatures who had blessed the land to be forgotten.

But some never would forget the deeds they had done, even as their numbers dwindled, even as their hope failed. They never would forget the ridicule they received in reward for their deeds. They all had contempt deep in their souls, and one fire drake had a large bounty on his rebellious skull that would be paid in due time.

* * *

It had been many years since he had stepped into a civilized city without being ridiculed or chased off. So long that he had sworn he had almost lost his humanity in the wild. He had spent his last 10 years scratching his living off of rocks, crying out at the shear horror of it all. He had once been worshiped, treated like a right king. He had been thanked, happy, so very loved throughout the land that with the gift of life that he gave. He had been welcomed in so many courts, both old and knew he had found homes for the lost, saved children from the cold. He was a savior through and through. He had many names from many different cultures, and he had loved every moment of the peace he had gifted the world.

Even in this odd form he needed to be cautious, his rebirthing had to be timed at the right moment, his body needing to morph into the perfect creature that he was living among. It was odd to see what he had been reduced to after all those years as such a king. To see how far the great Arandur the Golden had fallen after his years higher than the sky.

This realm had been the last place he had expected to be dropped. He hadn’t expected the white council to spit him in the middle of Gondor, or even in the brightest hall in the Elvish cities of old, but this small village, this little spittle of green in the map that had yet to be claimed was somewhere he hadn’t expected to land. To be placed in a small Hobbit settlement far away from the settlements of Man, Elf and Dwarrow in a town so new it hadn’t yet been granted a name was highly unexpected. He had used his anonymous nature with ease, once he had gotten to having two legs instead of four that is.

He had built his home with an effort that he hadn’t put into anything yet before, he had crafted it in a region that would become known as the Westfarthing, near Tuckborough. Eventually the eccentric and wonderful family that would be known as the Tooks would live there, their family smial that had started with his efforts would sprawl over 3 hillsides and take up quite a few acres of land.

He had been blessed into that family more often than not, allowing himself to be a gift to mothers who couldn’t bear fauntlings, a secret watcher and protector of the land that would eventually become known as Hobbiton.  Arandur would live his days becoming more well known, spoken of often when he would grow, physical features never differing much from his original hobbit form. As often as he was a Took, he was also blessed into the Baggins family, both families well looked at (as more than once a Thain had sprouted from the lines) though one thought to be more _different_ than the other.

He himself had been born of different names and different times; he had lived happily as he could be trapped in the green land of the Shire. Dreaming of adventure and of the blessings that he had once given, trying to ignore the itch underneath his skin demanding him a change that he knew was coming.

* * *

His story was an odd sort of story, a story that needn’t be written down, but spoken by tongue and shared throughout the land. His story was one that he couldn’t express through song and dance, his story was something the world hadn’t yet heard, and though he often spoke stories of the dragons of old and how they were a blessed group he never told them his secret. It was a secret so old, and so unheard by the ears of Middle-Earth that he could hardly bear to speak it. The only creature that even knew about it only visited him once every few hundred years, normally if he needed something, or if he simply wanted to make sure that Faelon was still very much alive.

Yes, Bilbo Baggins had quite the secret, he wasn’t Bilbo Baggins at all. He was the great Golden Drake of the Western Sea, protector and caregiver of middle Earth since the ages of old. He was once Arandur the Golden. He was now reduced to living within the skin of a Hobbit, hundreds of years old, hiding away from the world that had once condemned him. He had planned to stay hidden in the land of the Shire until the world had turned to dust around him, until he could stretch his wings in the open instead of hidden away deep within the forests surrounding the Shire, or in the darkness of the night. He was far from content, but until the white council allowed him freedom to move about he had figured he would be stuck in the same town until it, or he, burned.

Little did he know that he would be given the very chance he hadn’t expected only weeks later in the form of 13 Dwarrows and a _very_ nosy wizard. He didn’t know that he would be tested mentally, physically or emotionally until the very end, nor did he know that he would be forced to choose between love and his own sanity.

 

* * *

TBC


	2. Unexpected but not Unwelcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets some very unexpected guests!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Well so far everyone seems to be enjoying the fic more than I thought they would. Hopefully I can continue to keep your interest. This isn’t really like anything I’ve written before, so it’s challenging for me to approach, but I think with time I’ll fall into this story and chapters will pop out faster! This Bilbo is much more outgoing than the Bilbo in Pressing Flowers, so it’s going to be different. Also note that any translations that are used in dragon tongue are collected from Google translate. Pleased don’t get offended by my lack of knowledge in the language I’ve chosen. I’ve never spoken a word of Swedish in my life, and I honestly won’t claim I can speak it! I know GT sucks for the most part, but it’s the only translator that I have access to. Translations will be at the bottom of each chapter! – CAS

 

_Demons_

* * *

_Chapter One_ _:_ Unexpected but not Unwelcome!

* * *

The last time Arandur had seen that Grey form walking through the Shire was when he had been the an old Thain known as Finn Took, apparently he had been the oldest Thain to date which was quite a feat for hobbits he assumed. He had been sitting in a wheeled chair in the garden of his large smial in the White Downs. The Wizard had approached him with a large smile on his face, addressing him as always in the language of the dragons, a simple greeting that varied by age. For this visit he simply said

“Hej, Guldhjärta. Du är vackrare än sist vi sågs!” The sentence caused the old dragon to snort with in good humor before waving him off, pretending not to notice the wizard who had taken to leaning cockily against his staff on the other side of the gate.

”Jag har alltid varit vacker jämfört med dig, trollkarl!!” He replied with a wild smile spread across his wrinkled face. His hazel eyes seeming to shine with mischif at the wizard’s snarky words. Their conversation had switched to an understandable language as to not cause suspission, but they always said their hellos and goodbyes in dragon tongue for to few spoke it, and it always seemed to make Arandur feel alive again.

* * *

It had been well over 159 years since the great dragon had laid eyes on Gandalf the Grey. Not that Bilbo could complain, he had known that Gandalf rarely showed his face in times of peace, even during the Fell Winter Bilbo had only heard that the wizard had fought for the Hobbits, even though help had never come. The hobbits in the Shire knew that there had been a dragon to protect them that day. It seems like the golden dragon who appeared at times of need since the forming of the Shire was there, and it seems like it always would be.

Stories of Arandur the Golden were always being spoken in the Shire, even if they couldn’t stand abnormailties, they had come to accept the feral beasts that only appeared when they needed it most. Word of the beast never escaped the boarders of the shire, mostly because the Hobbits didn’t want people to know of the abnormality that lingered in the area, and also because they feared that Arandur would _leave_. The great dragon never actually _said_ he would leave if they spoke about him, but the hobbits had assumed it was implided, and honestly Bilbo liked that better.

As Bilbo Baggins, it only seemed right to live alone, for some reason he sensed it would be better for him if he lived alone. He had a feeling that being attatched to people in the Shire would now only bring pain, and both Bilbo Baggins and Arandur knew that pain very well. Something had simply told them that in this life, he needed to be recluse, and had he known the reason a few months ago, he might not have followed that feeling.

Yes it was a beautiful day in the Shire the next time Gandalf the Grey showed his face in Hobbiton. It had been a lovely day for Bilbo, he had made himself a wonderful first breakfast before popping off to the market for supplies for the next week or so. He had bought a mass amount of food and had been even more pleased when a few of the market boys had offered to help him carry it to Bag End in exchange for elevensies (as they had all seemed to miss second breakfast). Bilbo had agreed happily, it wasn’t often that the fauntlings offered assistance to the recluse Bilbo Baggins, and honestly he wasn’t about to argue with them.

After a rather pricy trip to the Green Dragon Bilbo Baggins found himself with a completely blank schedule it had only thaken him half an hour to unload his bounty of the day, and a little bit longer to set about cleaning his smial before he was completely out of this to do. This was something that happened often to Bilbo, he did so much in a morning and then was left with almost nothing to do for the next few days.

Hamfast had come through and weeded his garden while he was out, he had dropped off the ripe produce, and left a note saying that ”once again Bilbo had won grand prize at the harvest festivle with his tomatoes, _again._ ” on a normal day he likely would have been extatic, but today he felt unsettled, he felt restless in his own skin. It was like his dragon _knew_ that today was going to be different then all of the other days this lifetime.

* * *

It wasn’t until it was nearing nightfall that he decided that if nothing else was planned he would bake, and bake he did. A tingle down his spine told him to do it, and thinking back on it he was more than glad he did. He spent hours baking pies, tarts, muffins, cupcakes, and many other different delights. He also spent quite an amount of time throwing together a large pot of stew filled with vegtables, beef, chicken, and also a bit of rice. He made a few different dishes for a main course that consisted of a rump roast, a number of roasted chickens, a large selection of meats and cheeses were chopped and aranged on a platter, and he rolled a large keg of ale out from his storage hull.

He couldn’t name the countless other foods he had spent time preparing, but his mind simply wouldn’t let him stop, Arandur wouldn’t let him stop. His body had been itle for too long, it had been peaceful for too long, he needed to prepair for something, even if he hadn’t a clue for the life of him what that something was.

He had just finished adding some ground red pepper to the soup for flavor when a loud knocking sounded at his door. It was a blunt yet polite knock, so Bilbo really didn’t feel the need to ignore it as he normally would, though he likely wouldn’t have been able to have ignored it even if someone had tied him down. He felt as if something had hooked his chest and was pulling him through the door. Though he did proceed with caution, gripping a small sword that he always kept on his person just in case. He peaked from his window to find the oddest of sights, six extremely burly looking creatures staring at his door, seeming to vibrate with energy. When this time a different hand knocked this time Bilbo remembered himself and slowly opened the door. The group of creatures were bathed in the light from his home were clearly male Dwarrows and he took note of all of them.

There were three that looked like they could possibly be related in one way or another, though the three looked equally as different. The childish looking strawberry blond had a haircut that looked much like their gardian had plopped a large bowl atop their head and cut what wasn’t covered, the haircut was all around innocent which seemed to fit the young dwarrow very well. The chocolate haired dwarrow beside him had extremely complex braids that seemed to be everywhere, even his eyebrows (which made Bilbo cringe slightly). The third had silver hair braided in different basket weaves, looking all around regal (for a dwarf who had obviously been traveling) and clearly was the head of their small family.

The other three looked almost nothing alike. There was a wild looking one with salt and pepper hair (Oh himmel, was that an axe?) and a slightly crazed glint in his eye. He seemed to be the oldest out of the dwarrows standing in that trio, but if he actually was Bilbo wasn’t sure. There was a pleasant looking Dwarrow with a gentle face and an odd hat that seemed to be resting well in place a top his head, he had long dark colored hair that was braided into two twisting braids at the base of his skull. The last Dwarf was a _very_ large red haired dwarf bilbo honestly didn’t think that even he plus the dwarf with the hat could hug him all the way around.

* * *

” Vilka är ni?” Bilbo blurted suddenly, causing a range of extremely confused ”whats?” and ”What language is that?!” – Ori – before he corrected himself with a very wide eyed, ”Sorry, who are you?” He asked as politely as he possiply could. His hazel eyes seeming to flash a slight golden hue in annoyance when they all started speaking at once. ”I’ll ask once again, who are you?” He asked once they had gone silent, his brow was raised  and he was obviously extremely confused with the situation.

”I’m Bofur!” The hatted Dwarf called with a large cheeky smile, he went about introducing the rest of the Dwarfs in a quick line that Bilbo was sure he wouldn’t have remembered had he actually been a Hobbit. All at once the second he finished stating the last name they stated boldly ”at your service!”

”B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours?” He said with wearing a very unsure expression over his mask of innocent indifference.

”Are we late?!” Ori said excitedly, looking as if he was seconds away from charging the door.

”Late? Late for what?” Bilbo said with a confused expression, his eyes crossing over the face of each Dwarrow before they returned to the Dwarf whom had spoken. ”I wasn’t even expecting visitors, what do you mean by late?” He questioned stepping out of his home and shutting the door behind him, taking in the odd expressions that crossed over each face before leaning against the beautifully painted (and unmarked) door.

”Did Gandalf not come?” the silver haired Dwarf questioned, he looked slightly panicked, so much so that Bilbo almost worried for his health.

”Gandalf hasn’t visited Bag End for over 50 years, Master Dori,” He paused, pleased to see that the fact that he had remembered the Dwarf’s name seemed to cheer him up slightly. ”Though even if he would have, I doubt he would have informed me of visitors, Wizards are like that you know.” He said in a matter of fact tone that the Dwarrows seemed to take in a teasing manner.

”Well that’s not good, ” The first Dwarrow introduced by Bofur -Nori, Bilbo remembered- let out a bark of a laugh and scratched his head in an awkward manner.

”Aye, Wizards are odd folk indeed.” He said, almost getting the whole thought, ”But that’s why we get along so well!” A nother bark of laughter escaped the small group before a loud rumble of a stomach, -from Bombur- seemed to cut out the entire conversation at an end.

”Well, take your boots off on the step and toss your cloaks over the fence.” He said carefully, seeing the confusion crossing the face of the others he smiled slightly, ”Your boots smell of pig filth, can’t have that in my house, I spent the after noon on a stress cooking spree, I have some food to spare.”

 He barely got it out of his mouth before the Dwarrows were stripping out of their cloaks and boots and eagerly boncing from foot to foot, he shook his head slightly and let them in the door with instructions to hang their weapons on the hooks on the wall. Which they did at an extremely fast pace, obviously _very_ pleased that they wouldn't be left out on the stoop with the stars.

* * *

He set four of the six (Bombur,  Bifur, Bofur, and Nori) to fetch the party table he had out of his storage hull, and asked Dori and Ori to assist him with collecting chairs and drinks. This led to him dicovoring that the Ri brothers were extremely interesting yet very nurturing Dwarrows, Dori flustered about gathering enough drinks for the lot (13 Dwarrows in total, Bilbo almost fainted) while Ori enthusiastically talked about their perpose in meeting. Bilbo couldn’t say he thought attempting a seemingly dangerous unknown adventure sounded like a good idea, but the group seemed almost overly confident in their unnamed leader.

He did have an interesting time trying to find out the family ethics of his current house guests, and those who would be arriving soon. Bofur and Bombur were brothes, as well as cousins to Bifur, who was distantly related to Nori’s mother, though not to the others which led Bilbo to believe that they had the same father (given how similar they looked) but not the same mother (which made the noticible differences mace sense). Aparently somehow they were all distantly related, all but three who were related to eachother but not the main group. It was an odd group made up of friends, family relations that didn’t quite make sense, adopted family, and obligations.

It was odd from a dragon’s stand point, or even a hobbit stand point to think of gathering such a missmatched group to attempt any form of quest, let alone a quest that was as large as this with such a small group. Hobbits and Dragons both kept family of blood in their hoards, blood was more important than anything to the creatures, dragons infact could go thousands of years in hybernation just to _avoid_ people who weren’t blood while their blood kin were away. Hobbits were almost the same, while they enjoyed good food and drink, when it came to family they were extremely prideful, they would suffer to the grave with their blood kin to avoid asking help from other families. To them it wasn’t good to owe anyone anything, who knew if they would use it against you.

* * *

Everyone had gathered around the table and was talking loudly with a mug of ale and a cup of tea while Bilbo set about the kitchen grabbing a bowl of stew for each of the Dwarrows at the table. He set aside all of the roasted chickens, ham, and the two extra rump roasts he had set to cook before retiring to sit and wait until his spring timer went off. He was busy pounding out some dough for biscuits when he thought he heard the a twin set of fists knocking on his front door. He poked his head into the dining room and looked about for a moment.

”Was that the door?” He asked loudly so he would be heard over the chatter.

“Ta, must be the twin girlies, can’t even knock on the door themselves!” Bofur mocked with a playful sneer when Bilbo asked who he thought it was. Bilbo looked confused at the mention of girls when Bofur waved him off, “Fili and Kili, Thorin’s nephews. They really are like girls, but they don’ fuck nearly as well as ‘em!” He said rudely causing everyone, to go quiet for a moment.

“Well at least they think they do.” Was the statement that could barely be heard as a small mumble from Ori, which sent the entire group into a roaring fit of laughter.  Bilbo honestly didn’t know what to think of the not so innocent little statement that Ori had mumbled, but he decided it was useless to try to scold him. With a sigh and the shake of his golden curls he slowly moved toward the door, slightly dreading what could possibly be lingering on the other side. He hoped desperately that these Dwarrows wouldn’t be worse than his current grouping.

If only he remembered that a Hobbit’s wish unlike a dragon’s rarely comes true…

 

* * *

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations by Google translate (I apologize if the translations are bad; I just use what I get my hands on!)
> 
> Overtherisingstar was kind enough to give me correct translations! So this is the updated list, I'm going to give "Bing Translator" a try for the next chapter, we'll see how that goes!
> 
> "Hej, Guldhjärta. Du är vackrare än sist vi sågs!"- “Hello, gold heart. You are more beautiful than when we last met!” 
> 
> “Jag har alltid varit vacker jämfört med dig, trollkarl!!” – “I've always been beautiful compared to you, wizard!”
> 
> "Vilka är ni?" - ""Who are you?"
> 
> "himmel"- "Heaven"


	3. Two by Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four more Dwarrows arrive, Fili breaks something, and Bilbo is ready to kill him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I apologize for the spelling errors, my spell check just completely forgets to work when I post in Swedish! It drives me up a wall! I have to post in like 8 different spell checks anyway, thus it makes me life so much more complex. Hopefully you lot enjoyed the last chapter; I’m a bit out of writing for some reason. I’ve been having blocks because I’m sick as hell, but I’m holding on. This chapter will contain the arrival of a few more Dwarrows. Let’s also just say that Bilbo is not happy with his new additions. Not sure if they’ll all arrive in this chapter, we’ll see where my writing takes me! Thank you for following, commenting, bookmarking/adding to favorites (depending on the site), and just taking the time to read! I love you all! 
> 
> P.S. Anything with a * beside it will be explained in the bottom author’s note! – CAS

 

Demons

* * *

_Chapter Two_ : Two by Two

* * *

When Bilbo opened the door the last thing he expected was the site that met his eyes. Oh yes he had expected two Dwarrows, he had been mentally preparing himself for another pair of burly Dwarrow men. He hadn’t exactly expected to see two rather young looking males. The Dwarf on his right stood taller than the one on his left, and if Bilbo hadn’t been gazing at them as intensely he likely wouldn’t have sited the shorter of the two was the older. The youngest – Kili, Bilbo guessed from descriptions- had a thick mane of chocolaty brown locks. His eyes were a deep brown, and while his face held a serious expression, they sparked with a mischief and a youthfulness that Bilbo hadn’t seen even in the youngest of Hobbits in the Shire.

The Dwarf on the left was almost the complete opposite then his brother. His mane was a rich and bright shade of flaxen that seemed to glow gold in the reflection of the light from his smial. His azure eyes shown with the same mischief as his brother, but they seemed to shine even brighter because of their shade.    

They looked like quite the pair Bilbo could feel his dragon purring deep within his chest, for some reason or another he felt warm as he gazed upon the younglings. The one looking like he could toss a rock over his shoulder carelessly and it would hit far into the line of his majority. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but looking at them made Arandur brush the surface of his Hobbit shell. He found himself whispering mentally about needing to protect this coming party, these children on this adventure. 

”Fili,” the flaxen haired prince said, his eyes never straying from Bilbo’s face. His voice was quaint, and it held a depth of warmth that Bilbo seemed to have not received in a very long time, even despite the kindness, respect, and dare he say friendship he was shown by the Dwarrows whom had arrived only an hour or so before.

”And Kili,” the chocolate haired prince held a deep voice, one that made Bilbo wonder if he got the tone from his father or his Dwarrowdam, knowing that either could be a possibility.

”At your service!” they said in unison with a deep boy. This caused Bilbo to crack a bright smile at them before replying in return. He had to chuckle again as he noticed how they looked much more relaxed and smiley when they straightened back up, they seemed to be past formality now, which made Bilbo more at ease.

”You must be Mister Boggins!” Kili stated, Bilbo had to cringe at the mutilation of his last name, but he smiled none the less before replying.

”Bilbo Baggins, må Modern skina över dig, och Fadern välsigna vårt möte!” He said with a deep bow, he chuckled softly at their confused expressions, knowing that they hadn’t a clue what he said. He didn’t want to mention that it was a traditional greeting in his natural tongue, so he simply smiled gently and answered the confusion with a soft, ”It means at yours, Master Kili,” He said as he watched the youngest Dwarf go to open his mouth. 

”Are we late?!” Kili asked looking a little panicked for a moment before Bilbo patted his shoulder in a comforting manner.

”No, no Master Fili, Master Kili. You’re only number seven and eight of my unexpected guests!” He said with a light tone. Careful not to upset the creatures that had him practically vibrating with paternal instincts. ”Just remove you boots with the others along with your cloak, and settle your weapons with the others.” He said nodding toward the line of boots on his front stoop.

The boys rushed quickly to do as ordered, though Fili, who had been rather silent for a while came back to meet him at the door. Bilbo and Fili spent a few seconds studying each other before sharing in a careful smile; he saw the cogs in the young Dwarrows mind on the fact that Bilbo had said unexpected. Obviously he, among the others, had assumed that Bilbo had been informed of their arrival. 

”Gandalf apparently didn’t make it before the first six master Dwarf,” at the horrified twin expressions Bilbo motioned them in the door, obviously bolder with the younglings for one reason or another. ”But no worries, I was in a cooking mood, I have a variety of roast meets and some stew on standby.” He said with a large smile, shutting the door behind the two. ”I also have a large selection of sweets for after our feast!” He said while chuckling as the two took off into the house to greet the others in the dining hall.

* * *

For the next two hours Bilbo found himself filled with morbid fascination on the eating habits of Dwarrows. He was amazed at how much they ate and drank, but he found it even more amazing on the songs they seemed to spit out on a dime. They could just look at an object and all simply know what to sing, no questions asked. Bilbo wondered if he would eventually be able to join in, and wondered if it would be something that he would be able to start. 

He was pleased to see that they hadn’t strayed far from the table, Kili had wondered through his smial before being summoned to a food fight by Fili who Bilbo had found was just as bad as his brother, if not worse. He had spat out mumbled curses in dragon tongue in a breath so quiet that none of the males in his home even noticed, but he hardly felt the need to neither mention nor speak it louder. 

It seemed like after Fili and Kili, the Dwarrows came two by two. Each time there was a knock he went and opened it to find two more Dwarrows, he knew well that soon, almost too soon he would be seeing Gandalf, and he didn’t think even the furthest of rooms could protect the Dwarrows to hear the verbal tongue lashing that he would receive from Arandur. 

It had been over five hours since Bilbo had welcomed in his first grouping of Dwarrows, and even though Bilbo honestly was having a lovely time with the Dwarrows (whom as soon as it was mentioned he had no prior warning changed their tune and seemed to respect him a bit more) but he was slowly getting fed up with their manners. Dwarrows at their finest reminded Bilbo of a mass of inebriated tweens who had just suffered through their stuffing*. Their manners at best were extremely repulsive, but Bilbo often had to remind himself that their enthusiasm and lack of manners meant that they respected him and found his cooking to be that among what would be expected to serve to a king. 

It was odd to think just how different Hobbits and Dwarrows really were, though he didn’t have much time to think about it as it seemed the second he sat down a knock would sound again. Two pairs of brothers pop in since Fili and Kili had stationed themselves as his body guards, snapping orders in a pleasant manner to the Dwarrows who began to join them member by member. 

Oin and Gloin had come about an hour and a half after the princes had entered his home. Bilbo had found out quickly that Oin was extremely hard of hearing, and the second you asked Gloin about family or relations he instantly went on a rant about his perfect family back home. This pair was followed by Dwalin (an extremely rough looking Dwarrow) and Balin, who seemed to make up for his brother’s image by appearing homely and extremely wise. Dwalin was a man of very few words, but his silence somehow seemed to keep everyone in line. 

* * *

Conversations moved smoothly the higher the moon rose into the sky. Bilbo wasn’t pleased to have become the butt of some of the jokes that the Dwarrows had found entertaining, and he had been simmering quietly trying not to think about it, at least until he had heard a loud smash  of china. He suddenly found himself unable to hold back his anger.

” ** _What was that_**?!” he ground out, practically spitting in anger. He rounded the corner to find a very guilty looking Fili before his eyes trailed down to see what had actually happened. The second he saw what had happened he felt his throat tighten. 

In a pile of at least 80 pieces lay Belladonna Tooks favorite tea cup. The one tea cup that Bilbo Baggins kept hidden away for protection, one of the last things he had of his mother. He could practically see her standing in Fili’s exact place, large smile brightening up her ageless face, round with his future sibling. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, he remembered his mother’s pride and happiness about finally being able to start her large family after an illness had almost taken it from her. He remembered that day being one of the last truly happy days of this life. He remembered that not even a month later she miscarried what would have been his sister. Lillian Baggins never existed, but to Belladonna she had always been real, Bilbo watched his mother start to fade as miscarriage after miscarriage took all joy from his mother. 

Bilbo didn’t know how long he had stared at the once specially crafted blown glass and clay cup, nor when the single tear had fallen down his cheek, but he did know when the burn of anger overwhelmed him. He could pinpoint the exact second when his warm hazel eyes turned to an unnatural feline shape and a terrifying shade of gold, so pure it looked almost yellow. He felt his lip curl into a threatening snarl his canine teeth elongating into an unnatural length. He also knew damn sure when he almost found himself lunging for Fili’s throat. Somehow he was able to stare long enough to only give the creature a disappointed look, eyes practically bearing into his soul. The unmistakable expression of, “ _how could you_ ” written plainly on Bilbo’s face. 

”I need air. Touch anything while I’m gone and I can promise you a very painful death, prince or not.” He growled out. Somehow he was able to brush past the Dwarrow without even reaching out to hurt him, only shaking his head. 

He was suddenly far too hot; he could practically taste the flames he knew he wanted to burst out. His body was too small to contain just how angry he was. None of the Dwarrows tried to stop him as he practically ripped the door off of its hinges. He knew he was panting, afraid that the anger would get the best of him, despite his age something about this life had allowed himself to grow attached to Bella, and it was horrible to think that one of his only links to a happy Bella was gone.

So distracted by the situation he was attempting to recover from he hadn't noticed the fist that had been raised to knock on the door as he stepped out the same second someone was attempting to step up and to their hope and knowledge _in._

* * *

TBC

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations by Bing Translate (I apologize if the translations are bad; I just use what I get my hands on!)  
> Må Modern skina över dig, och Fadern välsigna vårt möte! - May the mother shine on you, and the father bless our meeting!  
> Stuffing – A Hobbit celebration that I created. (No guys, it isn’t anything sexual so don’t get too excited!) It is a type of inanition into a Hobbit’s free years before they become an adult. The celebration is when a Hobbit is legally allowed to consume alcohol for the first time and is typically “stuffed” full of it. Pretty much it is ceremony where all of Hobbiton watches a Tween get shitfaced for the first time after spending hours stuffing them with booze. Obviously it wouldn’t be a pretty thing to see the morning after, or even simply after they finally stopped drinking.


	4. The Last Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the unexpected guests arrive in Bilbo's Smial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Hello everyone!  
> I’m so very sorry it’s been so long since my last post of Demons (This is a Christmas gift (or Yule, or any other holiday you might celebrate) for you guys!); just do remember it has been even longer for my other stories, so let us count our blessings, yes? I was originally going to have Bilbo be super secretive, but really I’ve read so many stories about how he hides everything until it hits a point where it comes out and breaks everyone’s trust. Not in my story, I don’t think he’ll be screaming “I’m a dragon” but he isn’t going to hide additional gifts and powers that comes with being a dragon. Also I’m not sure how I feel about this being a Thilbo story, I just think their personalities would clash way too much… what do you guys think?
> 
> Someone sent me a message and asked where fan-art can be sent a few months ago. You can send it to my DA- Effiebelle430, or to my Tumblr-The Lost Fawns. Either way is fine with me, I’m ecstatic anyone even liked my story enough to want to do fan art! 
> 
> (Translations at the bottom Author's Note) – CAS

Demons

* * *

 _Chapter Three_ : The Last Arrivals

* * *

Colliding with a solid body was the last thing Bilbo Baggins had expected when storming out of his Smial. In retrospect he should have, seeing as his night had been going in a manner that was anything _but_ normal. He should have simply opened the door and let the bastards in without even thinking before storming off to the off season orchard to transform and destroy something. He knew that even if he wanted to halt after that exit he wouldn’t have been able to; his body was thrumming with anger and his momentum was working against him at the moment.

He was already trembling with badly concealed rage, and the appearance of yet _another_ unknown person was making him even less pleased then he already was. When he looked up to see person he had actually run into, he could do little more than stop and stare at the creature that was blocking his door. His eyes staying a sharp golden rather than their normal hazel shade. His eyes trailed from the man’s chest, to meet the iciest blue eyes he had seen in a very long time.

The Dwarrow was built; he was easily the tallest Dwarrow that was currently residing in his smial. He was clearly someone who shouldn’t to be trifled with. He had a stern gaze with a piercing glare, and obviously wasn’t amused that he had been run into, not that Bilbo was entirely happy with that either. He had the most amazing eyes Bilbo had seen since the death of the last Ice Drake lord, and that was saying something. Ice Drakes used to be known for their vanity and their beauty, Drake lords in particular were known to be for unspeakable beauty. He looked like he was closely related to Fili and Kili, perhaps a cousin maybe even an uncle? He had deep dark colored hair, a short beard that at first confused Bilbo, but he understood that with Dwarrows that they only had short beards if they were extremely young, or they cut it out of shame. The Dwarrow didn’t look young, so perhaps the Dwarrow had done something he viewed as shameful?

* * *

He heard a throat clear from behind the Dwarrow, and his eyes flicked to the figure standing behind and he practically felt his lip curl at the face he saw. He ignored the Dwarrow in favor of unleashing a wave of hot air flare toward the wizard, it brushed past the Dwarrow with light warmth before bursting into the Wizard.

“Trollkarl…” He said in a snarl, instead of the normal very formal snarky greeting he typically could conjure up. Frankly it had been a number of years since his nerves had hit this level of fried, he hadn’t had to practice restraint in even longer, and Gandalf was lucky that he didn’t change forms and pounce right now. He looked back at the last arrival with a sharp look. “Pardon my rudeness, Master Dwarrow, but I have business with this Wizard, as he invited 13 of your kin to my smial without my knowledge.” He stepped aside for the Dwarrow to step into his smial but holding his hand up to stop the Wizard. “I shall be at your service in but a moment, ask Dori to show you where the stew is.” He said with little room for argument stepping out the door and shutting behind him before the Dwarrow could say anything.

Bilbo was aware he was rude to the Dwarrow, but he figured he would allow the other Dwarrow in his home to talk to the mysterious Dwarf while he let off some steam at Gandalf.  He turned to face the wizard when he felt the wind pick up a bit, he was suddenly so very angry at the Trollkarl. Where had he been when Belladonna and Bungo had been murdered? Why had he done that to the Shire, letting the fell winter hit when he was off doing whatever he had been doing? Bilbo had been too young at the time to stop himself from getting sick, but the moment he was healthy he struck the wolves, the orcs, and he slaughtered the Goblins the second he could. _He_ protected his people, while the rest of the world had left them to suffer.

* * *

“How dare you come here after all this time.” Bilbo he stated with a harsh expression, his power crackling around him. Gandalf stood with his hands raised in innocence, but Bilbo knew better.

“I had planned to arrive before the others, but I was delayed,” The wizard said, the expression on his face was stone-like, but Bilbo could see the hint of apprehension in his eyes. Arandur was not someone to mess with, he was dubbed the Golden for a reason, and while it mostly referred to his breed of drake, it also implied that he had magic within his blood. He briefly looked over his shoulder to look at the window to make sure no one was listening; he saw a flash of fur (As he noted Dwarrows almost seemed to have pelts rather than normal hair) and decided that Dragon tongue would be safest for this situation.

“Det är sådana saker som brev, trollkarl. Hade du inte tänkt att skicka mig en? Eller var du upptagen inblandning i det som ingen av er oro?" He hissed out, his golden eyes shifting into a serpent like slit, his face was showing all of his emotions, and none of them were proving good for the wizard. He tried to keep himself in check; his voice was low as to not draw attention from nosy neighbors, always interested in the comings and goings of _“Odd Baggins”._   He sighed loudly, a small growl escaping through his lips in attempt to gather his thoughts. “Min integritet betyder så lite att du längre? Det har gått femtio år sedan du har sett i denna del av världen, varför nu? Varför bara när du behöver något? Vad av föll vinter, "Gamla vän"? När jag behövde dig, du var nr var att ses!” He hissed with a raised brow, taking a step towards the Wizard who took a step away.

“If I could have been here Ormen, skulle jag ha. Något mörkt flyttar i öst, och jag var tvungen att inse det. När jag hörde av Belladonnas död försäkrar jag er jag var bara så trasig." He slipped into the rolling language of the dragons as if he had been born speaking in it. Bilbo knew it was only due to his own personal dutiful training of the Wizard when he was but a hatchling that had barely been on this world but a few years.

* * *

He honestly wasn’t sure how to feel, his body was still raging from the fact that one of the Dwarrow that had come into his home uninvited and had broken Belladonna’s teacup. It would not have typically been a big deal, he would have simply fixed it and forgotten about it, but he had just been so _angry._ It wasn’t often Arandur got so fired up, he supposed it had been so many years living in a rather uneventful environment that got him so worked up so easily now. He had been too lax; he had grown too accustomed to the warm rolling hills of the Shire, the comfort of knowing where your meals would come from, when they would arrive, and how often. He had grown comfortable with the people; even if he was viewed as “mad Baggins” he didn’t even care. Because he was at home here now, and that thought frightened him.

Home, something he didn’t even want to think about. His home was within the western sea, his home that had been destroyed by Smaug. His home that now lay in ruins, yes, Arandur wanted revenge, but would he risk his new home? Or anyone else’s home while he was at it? What happened if the Shire experienced another Fell winter, or was raided while he was away? Hobbits had no protection; they could barely survive wolves and wargs, if men or orcs decided to raid The Shire, there would be barely any survivors. So many thoughts swirled through his brain; he hadn’t realized that he had been quiet for quite some time.

It wasn’t until he heard someone’s throat clear that his gaze snapped up to lock onto the Wizard. That was when his eyes started to scan the creature before him scanning, taking in every detail, every new wrinkle, and every new scar. It honestly had been so long since the Grey Wizard had come to visit his abode, very little had changed on the man, but Arandur could see new lines of worry, new signs of stress and worry. His eyes narrowed at this, surely this quest couldn’t be the sole reason for these new signs of worry. Dwarrow could be tiring creatures, but Arandur had done business with them since the dawn of their creation. They couldn’t be much worse, could they?

“Something far larger than this quest bothers you, trollkarl, what trouble has come from the east?” Bilbo questioned, his voice was accusative, but really he was far older than the wizard, he had to use his slight status difference to his advantage somehow.

“Of exactly what is occurring I am not completely certain, but I am quite certain it is extremely serious, and the full extent of how serious it is will soon come to light.” The wizard said with a defeated expression, Bilbo understood of course. He himself had felt the shifting of the shadows; something grew anxious, unsteady in the darkness. Whispers of increased orc activity had hit his ears; he himself had slain a small orc pack just outside of the boarders of the Shire not 10 days ago. Whispers that Trolls, wargs, and various other unsavory creatures had been sighted mere leagues from the Shire had caused him to tighten up his voluntary “adventures” under the guise of business in Bree.

He had wanted to ignore the signs that the shadows were shifting. His involvement in the War of the Ring, and nameless other battles had been massive, and to be honest he still suffered the backlash of his involvement. He didn’t even want to dwell on the nightmares he still suffered with, even thousands of years later and in a new body. The thought that he might potentially be pulled into another fight for the freedom of Middle-Earth was almost more frightening than the idea of traveling with Dwarrow again.

* * *

It was after a few moments of silence that Bilbo decided he would finally start playing his part as a good host to Gandalf, and in turn the company he brought along with him.

“You may tell me of all these troubles, including this mad adventure you want me to attend, over a nice steaming bowl of stew. I say we quite deserve it. I’ll allow your Dwarrow to explain everything, and reserve my judgment until the very end, like the good little serpent that I am.” He said with a huff and a quiet snort to show his disgust at the idea. He didn’t even want to think about what his smial would look like after the Dwarrow were left unattended for so long. He almost didn’t want to open the door, but knew eventually he must face the company.

He just hoped he could keep from killing both the Dwarrow, and himself. If there was one thing both Arandur and in turn Bilbo remembered, it was that one could not be saved from the stubbornness of Dwarves.

 

* * *

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations by Bing Translate (I apologize if the translations are bad; I just use what I get my hands on!)
> 
> Trollkarl: Magician.
> 
> “Det är sådana saker som brev, trollkarl. Hade du inte tänkt att skicka mig en? Eller var du upptagen inblandning i det som ingen av er oro?" - There are such things as letters, Magician. Had you not thought to send me one? Or were you too busy meddling in that which is none of your concern?
> 
>  
> 
> “Min integritet betyder så lite att du längre? Det har gått femtio år sedan du har sett i denna del av världen, varför nu? Varför bara när du behöver något? Vad av föll vinter, "Gamla vän" när jag behövde dig, du var nr var att ses!” - Does my privacy mean so little to you anymore? It's been fifty years since you've been seen in this part of the world, why now? Why only when you need something? What of the fell winter, "Old Friend"? When I needed you, you were nowhere to be seen!  
> “"Ormen, skulle jag ha. Något mörkt flyttar i öst, och jag var tvungen att inse det. När jag hörde av Belladonnas död försäkrar jag er jag var bara så trasig.” – “"Serpent, I would have. Something dark moves in the east, and I was forced to face it. When I heard of Belladonna's death I assure you I was just as broken."”


End file.
